


Make Me Forget Him

by NickelModelTales



Category: Original Work
Genre: Amnesia, Anal Sex, Betrayal, Cheating, Chicago (City), Dubious Consent, F/M, Hypnotism, Oral Sex, Politics, Porn With Plot, Sexual Slavery, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-17
Updated: 2019-01-17
Packaged: 2019-10-11 11:56:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17446517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NickelModelTales/pseuds/NickelModelTales
Summary: When her heart is broken, Roxanne resolves to get hypnotized so that her lecherous boyfriend is erased from her mind forever.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A reader requested that I write something in the third person, instead of my usual first person narrative. This story seemed like a good fit for that request.

**_Chicago, 2008_ **

“Okay,” Don Harbrook said, settling into the conference room chair.  “You’ve got ten minutes,” he intoned.  “ ** _Impress_** me.”

Roxanne slipped a calm look at Derrick, who was rising to his feet.  Immediately, she felt better about their chances.

Derrick Mathers began his pitch, unbuttoning his one suit coat button as he spoke.  It was a sign of supreme confidence.  Long ago, one of his father’s business partners had mentioned that this tiny little gesture, this little flick of the fingers, said so much about a man.  It was an indication that he was self-assured, he was allowing a glimpse beneath his armor, letting his informal side peak through a little.  And, of course, it called attention to the expensive suit.  Confidence.

Derrick spoke firmly, locking eyes on his audience of one.  The boy was barely out of graduate school, a mere twenty-three years old, but he carried himself like a seasoned professional twice his age.  Lean, handsome, muscular, charismatic, Derrick always turned heads when he entered a room.  His brown hair was thick and perfectly combed.  There was no trace of stubble on his square chin.  His hard, brown eyes glinted as he spoke.

The older man, Don Harbrook, listened without comment.  Harbrook was the Mayor’s Chief-of-Staff, a powerful man who knew how to look out for his even-more-powerful boss.  As Derrick spoke, Roxanne scanned the Chief for any hint as to his thinking.  The man was a brick wall.

“Roxanne and I are here to explain the inner workings of the Heartfelt Program,” Derrick began.  “We have a mission statement, program structure, proposed org chart, implementation timeline, and of course, the preliminary financials.  I’m going to walk you through as much of it as I can.”

“Skip to the essentials,” Harbrook interrupted.

Inside, Roxanne cringed.  Although he did appreciate detail, the Chief was not known for his patience or charity.

Derrick didn’t flinch.  “Two years ago this week,” he said sadly, “Sally Jo Kipanning, age fifteen, took her own life in the bathroom of her school.  A city school.  Shortly thereafter, it was discovered that her boyfriend and peers had treated her cruelly, presumably spurring this senseless tragedy.  The mayor promised to do something to help teens in need.

“And that something should be the Heartfelt Program,” the boy continued.  “Miss Sullivan and I envision an in-school program that is designed to provide an emergency support network for teenagers grappling with all sorts of modern issues.  Heartfelt will be there, when a girl is bullied by her friends, when a transgender teen is coming to grips with-“

“Got it,” Harbrook interrupted.  “Move along.”

“The program is a mix of school faculty and peers engaging in common activities,” said Derrick, not rattled at all.  “Each activity is a team exercise, designed to foster inter-relationship skills, expose teens to new but exciting challenges, and give back to their local communities.  And,” Derrick added, leaning forward, “to be financed entirely within existing school budgets.”

“No tax increases?” Harbrook said.

Derrick nodded, a simple, curt gesture.

Harbrook’s eyebrows rose.  “Continue,” he instructed.

Derrick did so, and Roxanne allowed herself to relax.  She, like her partner, was very young for a City Administrator.  Thin, willowy, and very pretty, she struck most as intelligent but reserved.  Quiet.  Brainy.  An idea nerd, not a showman like Derrick.

Like always, Roxanne had pulled her long, brunette hair back into a professional bun and her delicate glasses were perched on her small nose.  Her slender figure was draped in a white blouse, office skirt, matching pantscoat, and professional heels.  She wore no jewelry.

The young woman noticed one of Harbrook’s aides checking her out.  Roxanne was a dedicated fitness buff, giving her lean but toned muscles.  She dressed conservatively, but the men in her orbit saw the body beneath the wrappings nonetheless.  They lusted for her behind her back.

The aide quickly looked away, embarrassed, and Roxanne refocused her attention back on Derrick.  The boy was **_killing it_**.  Already, in under four minutes, he’d laid out the core idea behind Heartfelt and was diving into the financials.  He spoke rapidly but precisely, using power language and the Mayor’s favorite buzzwords.  Roxanne smiled.

They made a good team, Roxy and Der.  She was the ideas girl, he the salesman.  Heartfelt was her baby, of course, conceived and gestated within her intelligent mind.  It was she who researched the Chicago School System charter, she who consulted with the psychologists, she who saw a gap in the bloated city budget for the money Heartfelt would need.  All the words in the preliminary legislation were hers.

But Derrick?  What Derrick lacked in logistics, he made up for in dazzle.  Derrick had looked over all Roxanne’s plans and designs, and knew at once how to package the whole deal.  He had distilled ninety pages of structural outlines into five tight paragraphs of executive summary.  He knew to whom to take this project, and he could see three steps ahead into meetings with City Council.  He was a political wizard.

As Roxanne marveled over her partner, Derrick was wrapping up the presentation.  “Heartfelt **_is_** heartfelt,” he said softly.  “Chicago’s heart.  Chicago’s way of showing our next generation that they are needed in our great city.  So there will be no more Sally Jo Kipannings.”

He paused for effect.

“Thank you,” he murmured, sitting down next to Roxanne.

Harbrook leaned back in his chair, rubbing his chin.

“Yeah,” the Chief finally said.  “Yeah, the Mayor might go for this.  You two still have a lot of work to do, though.  When could it be ready?”

“Next September One, sir,” Derrick replied.  “In time for Election Day.”

“Hmmgh…” the older man mused.

The clock on the wall ticked.

“Okay,” said Harbrook.  “You two have my blessing.  Get all the particulars worked out, on my desk in **_sixty days_**.  No longer.  I like the no taxes bit, make sure you keep that.”

Roxanne grinned with relief and pride; she couldn’t help it.

“Good work, you two,” the Chief-of-Staff said, rising from his chair.  “You know, I don’t see this quality of ideas even from the senior staffers.  Keep this up, and you’ll have positions in the next administration, I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you, sir,” Roxanne and Derrick replied in unison.

“Sixty days,” Harbrook reminded them, already heading for the door, his aides flanking him.

But then the Chief stopped.  He turned.  “Oh, one more thing,” he drawled, as if uncertain of what he was about to say next.

Roxanne’s smile faded somewhat.

“Look,” Harbrook said, swinging around.  “You kids are new.  You’re bright, you’re ambitious.  All good things.  But you’re also inexperienced in the ways of City Hall.  So I’m gonna give you two some advice I wish to Christ someone had given me when I started out.”

The Chief stepped forward, planting his fists on the conference table and leaning forward.  “Whatever you kids do,” he said firmly, “ ** _keep things professional._**   Always.  The Mayor has been burned too many times by sloppy bookkeeping, staff backbiting, city officials getting caught in nasty affairs.  I want no drama.  No more scandals.  If you two come across as anything less than utterly professional robots, I’ll take your program and reassign it to more seasoned hands.”

Harbrook stood straight.  “This is your shot at the big time, kids,” he warned.  “Don’t fuck it up.”

******

Ten minutes later, Roxanne and Derrick stepped into the waiting elevator.  They were alone.

The doors closed.

“Jesus Fucking Christ!!!” Derrick screamed in joy.  He whooped with laughter.

Roxanne let the biggest smile escape her lips.  “He liked it!” she gushed.  “You did it!”

“Naw, baby,” retorted Derrick, a bigger grin on his lips.  “It was all you.  I’m just the messenger.”

Roxanne tore off her glasses.  “Messenger, my ass,” she said in a saucy tone.

And then she was in his arms, kissing him, clawing at his muscle-laced frame, sighing in happiness and passion.  Derrick kissed back, hard.  He was erect.

“Where we goin’?” he gasped as Roxanne nibbled his face, making sure to press her breasts against him.

“My place?”

“Naw, too far,” frowned Derrick, pulling her blouse free from her belt.  “Your office?”

Roxanne smiled coyly.  “My office?  Kinky, Mr. Mathers.”

“Com’on, we can do it in there, right?”  Derrick grinned like the Devil.

Sighing a little, Roxanne felt her better judgement dissolve.  “For you?  I’ll do anything.”

******

Roxanne’s City Hall’s basement office was **_tiny_**.  There was room for a desk, chair, file cabinet, and little else.  No window.  Roxanne had done what she could to make the place a second home, as she tended to live there more than in her own apartment.  Her decoration efforts were mostly futile.

Now Roxanne swept into the miniscule room, hoping the nosy cubicle staff outside didn’t notice her smeared rouge or ruffled blouse.  She tapped her laptop computer, bringing it back to life, and pretended to settle in to check her email.  But her thoughts were anything but professional.

Exactly five minutes later, there was a soft rap on her open door.

“Excuse me, Miss Sullivan?” a polite male voice said.

Crossing her toned legs, Roxanne swiveled about in her chair.  There was Derrick, calm and aloof.

Behind him, Roxanne could see the cubicle staff, craning their necks to watch this little drama.  Tara, the office slut, was particularly focused on Derrick’s little rear.

“Mr. Mathers,” she replied coolly.

“The Heartfelt Project,” Derrick said a little loudly.  “I was wondering if we could discuss the budget projections?”

Play-acting as best she could, Roxanne sighed and commented, “Well, I’ll cancel my conference call, then.  You’d best come in.  And shut the door.”

Derrick stepped inside, closing the door gingerly.  The cubicle staff – Tara especially – watched wistfully as the door shut.

Instantly, Roxanne flew into Derrick’s arms.  He grunted in pleasure as she kissed him, raking his fingers through his thick hair.

“Hey, hey,” Derrick smirked, “careful, they’ll be watching me when I leave.”

“I so want you,” breathed Roxanne.

“Mmm,” Derrick agreed.

They kissed and groped some more.  Derrick’s erection was positively enormous, and Roxanne loved leaning against it.

Then, with a savage thrust of his hands, Derrick spun his girlfriend about, pointing her at her desk.  He knelt to squat on his haunches, his folded legs sticking out to the sides as to stay as close as possible to Roxanne’s shapely legs.

The young woman tensed, slightly.  Derrick was now pawing and nuzzling her ass.  He loved her ass.  He once told her that he’d asked her out because her ass was the first part of her he’d noticed and it was all he needed.  He wanted to fuck it.

Derrick’s skilled hands circled around Roxanne’s waist, releasing her belt and then buttons.  She bent forward, her hands on her own desk as Derrick’s fingers curved under the cloth and pulled skirt and panties to the floor.  He breathed deeply, his arousal thick in the air.

“Oh my God, I **_love_** this butt,” he growled, perhaps to her, perhaps to himself.  “Your ass, your ass is sooooo hot.”

Roxanne closed her eyes, allowing Derrick to lift her feet, one-by-one, to remove her lower clothing entirely.  She felt the stuffy office air bathe her skin.

Surrendering to his wild lust, the young salesman began kissing, then sucking on Roxanne’s buttocks.  It was a strange sensation for the young woman, but she permitted it.  It made her lover crazy with excitement for her.  She forced her mind to relax, and pictured herself and Derrick in a more romantic settings.

Derrick couldn’t control himself.  “Goddamn,” he mumbled between the kisses, “I so fucking want you.  I so fucking want you, baby.”

Smiling a little, Roxanne softly asked, “Do you love me, baby?”

“Oh my God, yeah,” Derrick assured her.  “I love you so fucking much, so fucking much, baby.”

That was it.  She was his.  Roxanne leaned forward, pressing her forearms into the desk for support.  She stepped each leg out to the side, putting nearly two feet between her heels.  She arched her back.

Derrick, muttering all sorts of inaudible promises, scrambled to his feet, fumbling at his zipper.  His trousers dropped, and soon his rigid cock was unsheathed.  It looked positively shiny to him in the dim fluorescent light.  He summoned as much spit as he could to lubricate it.  And then, as Roxanne breathed heavily, he pressed the tip against her anus, and began pushing.

All his life, Derrick had been an anal man.  He simply had no earthly interest in the vagina.  There are, sex researchers tell us, a sizable number of men who are like this; all butthole, no babyhole.  Most of these fellows have to settle for vaginal sex, but not Derrick.  Derrick was far too attractive, too slick, and too skilled at all other aspects of lovemaking that he never had to settle.

Oh, the first time he had sex with Roxanne, this was an issue, of course.  She had never done anal, nor was she looking to expand her horizons.  He’d pleaded; she resisted.  He’d promised; she considered.  He’d offered her anything she wanted; she relented.  And yes, the first time it **_hurt_**.

But Derrick was a gentle butt-fucker.  He took his time to work his way in, never thrusting or tearing too quickly.  By the time he was pumping at full throttle, Roxanne had been able to relax into his cock and ride it out.

Did she enjoy getting some in the backdoor?  Truthfully, no.  Some women, she’d learned through research, found it pleasurable, even preferable.  But not Roxanne.  To her, anal was something she did **_for_** her boyfriend.  Not with him.  She tolerated the bumpy ride and the soreness after because it drove Derrick wild… and deep down inside, she knew she loved him.

As her boyfriend hammered faster and faster, Roxanne clenched her teeth, lest the cubicles workers hear her cry out.  Derrick was biting his own tie as a muzzle.  But his soft little grunts of bliss told Roxanne all she needed to know.  She imagined this was pleasuring her, too.

Roxanne was thankful that this time was gentler than most.  Derrick was worth the anal, she decided.  The Heartfelt Project might be her brainchild, but it was Derrick who was going to see it through to its birth.  He was a perfect partner.  They were in sync.  The best team in City Hall.  One day, who knew, she might even cum for real while they were speaking Greek.  She felt **_that_** close to him.

******

After fucking, the two lovers cuddled and kissed, simply kissed, for maybe ten minutes.  They sat in Roxanne’s chair, Derrick balancing his girlfriend in his lap.  She cradled his sweet face in her hands, letting her lips gently caress his cheeks and mouth.

Her laptop pinged.

The young administrator sighed.  “I have a one o’clock,” she told her boyfriend regretfully.

Both twenty-somethings rose, quickly wiping themselves off with towelettes.  Roxanne had learned to keep a supply handy.  While pulling on their clothes and taking care to restore their professional appearances as much as possible, she forced her head back into work mode.

“We need to… well, there’s a lot to do.  On the project, I mean,” Roxanne said, quickly rebrushing her hair.

Derrick waited for her signal, then opened the door.

“Okay, so its agreed,” he said, loudly for the outer staff’s sake.  “We’ll start a Page One evaluation, say… tonight?”

“Sure,” Roxanne nodded, sitting behind her laptop.  “Yeah, tonight should work.”

Derrick shrugged.  “Okay, great.”

There was the slightest of pauses.  This was the moment Roxanne hated… being unable to say really good-bye, and letting the boy know how she felt.

Understanding, Derrick hovered for the briefest of moments.  His eyes danced as he looked at his girlfriend.  He lingered as long as he dared.

And then he was gone, striding back across the office floor.

Roxanne sighed, clicking her email.

******

Three meetings.  Two conference calls.  Two trips up to City Records, on the third floor.  One coffee meeting.  Fifteen phone calls.  Seventy-seven emails.  Many snippets of conversation in the hallway.  Roxanne wasn’t certain how much more she could cram into a day.

At six o’clock, she hunkered down.  Now that the phone wasn’t ringing, she could actually get some work done.  There was a lot to do.

******

Forty-seven pages of municipal code later, the young woman reached for her coffee, only to realize that it was stone cold.  How long had she forgotten it?

It was 8:17 PM.  The cleaning staff was finishing up, ready to go home.  She was the last soul actually working.

Roxanne rubbed the bridge of her nose, considering her options.  The Starbucks in the lobby had closed over an hour ago.  She could download what she needed and carry it home on her laptop… but what if she needed the shared drive?  No, she had to stay.  And she needed caffeine.

With a jolt, the young administrator realized she was standing up her boyfriend!  Derrick!  They were supposed to review Heartfelt tonight!  Cursing, Roxanne scooped up her smartphone.

Derrick didn’t pick up, which wasn’t unusual.  For a politician, he hated the phone.

So she texted:  **_Sorry baby stuck at the office.  B home soon, ok?_**

As Roxanne searched her purse for some quarters, her phone vibed.  Derrick:  **_Hey no prob.  You going 2 B much longer?_**

Roxanne glanced at the paperwork.  Sixty-some pages to go, before revisions.

Sighing, she texted back:  **_Y, sorry.  Can we do review 2morrow AM?_**

The reply was almost instant:  **_Sure, dont worry about it._**

With regret, she said, **_So sorry._**

Him:  **_Its ok. Ill catch the Bulls game over at Chads._**

So, at least Derrick wasn’t wasting his evening.  Roxanne texted a kissy emoji, then set down her phone.

If she read at top speed and the documents didn’t contain anything unusual, she might be home by 10:30 PM.  Maybe she could coax Derrick to come over by then?  His buddy Chad lived not that far from her little Wicker Park apartment.

In the meantime, Roxanne needed caffeine.  The cheapest source now was the vending machines.

******

Of course, the basement machines were out of sodas, as were machines on ground and third floors.  Rather than walk the stairs up another flight, Roxanne took the elevator all the way up to five.  This way, she could walk down.

The fifth floor was dark, but its vending machine looked promising.  Plenty of Cokes.  Roxanne fed in her two dollars, punched B3, and waited for her drink to pop out the bottom.

Wait a minute… the young woman hesitated.  Was that…

Yes.  Her sharp ears had detected the distant but unmistakable sound of a woman gasping loudly while having sex.

 _Aw shit,_ Roxanne thought, annoyed.

Chief-of-Staff Harbrook had made it clear to all City Hall employees: there was to be **_no more scandals_**.  The Mayor’s office was besieged with enough investigations as it was.  Now two idiot staffers were shagging in an open conference room?

At least Roxanne took precautions to keep her interoffice sex life hidden.  But now that she flexed her ears, it was pretty obvious that whoever was having sex was convinced they had the entire fifth floor to themselves.  Careless.

The problem now?  It was possible… although highly unlikely… that a reporter wander up to this floor.  If word leaked out that two members of City Hall were boning **_on the Mayor’s floor_** , well, the fallout would be swift and terrible.

And worse?  Roxanne had just swiped her keycard to access the floor.  Building security would know she’d been up here.  So now, she was under obligation to scout and report the transgressors.  Or risk being fired.

Cursing her luck, Roxanne followed the woman’s noise.  Down the main corridor, past Media Relations, past the Press Briefing Room… there!  One of the conference room doors was carelessly open, just a sliver.  Light from inside spilled out into the corridor.

The lovemaking woman was definitely inside.  She was crying out and laughing as passion seized her, and through the frosted window, Roxanne could see flashes of her dark brown hair as she flailed.  This woman was young.  She was gasping, close to climax.

“Oh yeah baby,” a male voice grunted.  “Your ass… your ass is sooo hot.”

Roxanne’s blood turned to ice.  She knew that voice.  It couldn’t be…

Stepping forward as if moving into a dream, the young woman moved to the conference room door, dreading what she knew she’d see.

Inside, Derrick was naked from the waist down, furiously butt-pumping a young woman bent over the table.  She squealed again in delight.  Derrick was going at full blast.  Although both people had their back to the door, Derrick had craned his head all the way to the right.  His profile was unmistakable.

Roxanne dropped her Coke, both hands clamping onto her mouth to muffle her wail of disbelief.  **_Derrick!_**   How…

“Oh baby, **_harder_** baby!!!” the woman sang, slapping the table with her palms.  “OH baby, my ass loves your cock!  O I looooove it!  Give it to me!”

“You like that?” Derrick snarled, a wicked smile on his face.  “Oh, **_yeeeeeah_** , you feel sooo good, baby.”

“Harder!” shrieked the girl.

Roxanne felt her world shatter.  Derrick, sweet Derrick!  How… how could he?

In a horrifying flash, Roxanne knew their Caribbean vacation, their plans to jointly buy the condo, their talk of adopting a dog… to say nothing of marriage… it was all gone.  Turned to ash.

The girl squirmed and began wriggling.  “I’m cuuuuuuuumming!” she sang happily.  “Oh, baby, **_you make my ass soooo happy!_**   Oh!  Oh!  **_Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!_** ”

She twisted her neck, and now Roxanne could see her face:  Tara.  Tara, the slut who worked two desks from Roxanne’s own office.  Tara, who had been scoping Derrick from Day One.

Derrick, mad with ecstasy, started bucking.  He was cumming too.  The boy began laughing, laughing heartily as he sprayed up into Tara.  He closed his eyes, savoring the moment.

Derrick and Tara finished, taking their time.  When Derrick slid out, his little whore spun around, her eyes glittering.

“Oh, baby, I **_wove_** being your widdle ass-bitch,” she cooed in a disgusting baby voice.  “You give it to me **_harder_** every time.”

Derrick fell back into a chair.  He grinned savagely.  “You like that, eh?”  He, too, switched to baby-talk.  “Who’s my widdle fucky-lovey butt gwrl?”

“Me!” giggled Tara, her voice high-pitched.

And the office worker fell on Derrick, tickling him.  They kissed and laughed.  Tara grabbed Derrick’s wrists, pulling his hands back to her butthole.

Roxanne let out an audible sob.  She couldn’t help it.

Alarmed, Derrick twisted in his seat.  He looked up, though the gap in the doorframe.  For an instant, his eyes connected with into Roxanne’s.

“Aw… fuck her,” Tara drawled, using her regular street voice now.  She rolled her eyes before plugging Derrick’s fingers back into her anus.

******


	2. Chapter 2

Poor Roxanne stared at the window.  She was in her studio apartment, curled up on the couch, half-in her pajamas, half-not.  The morning sun was just peaking through her window.

Her eyes bloodshot, the young woman considered getting up.  She hadn’t slept a wink, simply spending the night wishing she could… **_die_** , actually.  There was no point to anything, anymore.

Before Derrick could speak to her, Roxanne had fled in tears, tearing out of City Hall as if the place were burning down around her.  She hadn’t even returned to her office, let alone collected her laptop or cell phone.  If she hadn’t been carrying her apartment keys, she might have laid in the gutter all night.

Her heart ached.  Wounded, it might never love again.

From the street, Roxanne could hear the morning traffic starting.  Chicago was waking up, going to work.  People needed breakfast, the newspaper, El trains, police, schools, garbage collection… it all had to happen.  Normally Roxanne would feel like a part of it all.

Not now.  Maybe not ever again.

******

It was now eleven-thirty, and Roxanne still had yet to budge, not even to go to the bathroom.  Surely by now, her absence in the office was noted.  Her boss would be sending her text messages.  Her nine o’clock, ten o’clock, ten-thirty, and eleven o’clock appointments would be writing pissy emails.  Her office, laptop, and cell phone would all be discovered where she’d left them.  People might wonder if she’d been kidnapped.

And Derrick…?

Oh God.

Derrick would know what happened, of course.  He couldn’t possibly explain it to anyone, but he would know.

That meant he would come straight to Roxanne’s apartment the moment he could.  Not to check and see if she was okay.  Not to grovel and beg forgiveness.  Certainly not to try and explain his hideous behavior.  Oh, no.

No, Derrick would come by because the Heartfelt Program needed its policy girl.  Billions of details had to be fleshed out.  A legislative design needed to be drafted.  More digging into the City Charter was necessary.  Derrick couldn’t do any of those things.

Roxanne squeezed her eyes together in pain.  Now, it was **_so clear_** what a fool she’d been.  When she’d first met him, Derrick had always talked about how he wanted to pad his early resume with great accomplishments.  But the time he was in his forties, he wanted to point to a long line of city initiatives that all bore his thumbprint.  “The Such-and-Such Program,” City Council members would say with admiration, “that was a **_Derrick Mathers_** operation.”  Future mayors stand on such accomplishments.

Derrick had only expressed an interest in Roxanne only when she’d mentioned the Heartfelt Program to him at the office Christmas party.  Suddenly, he’d been romancing her, happy to let her pick what movies they saw or where they ate dinner.  It was he who suggested they exchange apartment keys.  It was he who teased her with talk of their future kids.  All the while, he’d been embedding himself into the blueprint of the Heartfelt Program.

Why?

He was going to steal it out from under her the moment Roxanne wasn’t needed.  Oh, she could see that clearly, now.  Once the project was approved by the Mayor and a staff hired, she wouldn’t be needed anymore.  Derrick could offload her responsibilities to subordinates, and then…

Roxanne felt herself crying again.

******

Around three o’ clock, the young woman realized with alarm that that Derrick was almost certainly about to arrive at her apartment.  No doubt he had realized she never showed up for work.  No doubt that he was rearranging his schedule to leave as soon as possible.  After all, if he had any chance of launching Heartfelt, he still needed Roxanne.  He would come to her.

Roxanne stood, angry.  Well… **_fuck him_**.  When he arrived, she wouldn’t be here.  There was nothing she could do to change the locks, of course, but…  Well, she just couldn’t see him.  Not today.  Not ever.

Poor Roxanne wasn’t thinking clearly, of course.  A lack of sleep and tortured emotions were wreaking havoc with rationality.

She stuffed herself into a pair of jeans from the laundry hamper, grabbed her jacket and keys, and then left.

******

Wicker Park had plenty of bars to help the miserable.  Roxanne wanted to drink away her misery, but a bar meant getting hit on, and she wasn’t in the mood to deal with men.  **_No way._**   She walked and walked and walked, ignoring people’s stares.  Soon she was out by Garfield Park, and still heading south.

 ** _What the fuck could she do?_**   Assuming she wasn’t already fired…

What she **_should_** do, Roxanne thought, was march back into City Hall, confront Derrick directly, and call him out.  Take Heartfelt from him without hesitation or pity.

Except that…  Roxanne still loved Derrick, still wanted him.  And he didn’t care about her.  Derrick was am exploiter, a schemer.  He’d have the upper hand on Roxanne, easy.  She knew that she’d be no match for his shrewd manipulations.  Hell, if Derrick was cruel, he might even find a way to sweet-talk his was back into Roxanne’s arms.

Her love for Derrick was her weakness.

Roxanne walked and walked, her brain churning.  A plan was forming, deep within her desperate thoughts.

******

When Roxanne got home, it was late.  Very late.  She didn’t know the time, nor did she want to know.

Her apartment had always disorganized, but in a glance, the young administrator knew:  Derrick had been there.  He’d pawed through her home filing cabinet and looked through her desk.  He had taken as much as he could of the Heartfelt Project.  Bastard!  If Roxanne had any doubts about his true intensions, they were swept away now.

She set the deadbolt, more determined than ever to carry out her plan.  If it worked – a **_big_** if – then she would be able to march back into City Hall, stare down Derrick, and tear Heartfelt out of his slimy claws.

It was her or him now.

******

The following morning, a wet drizzle blanketed Chicago.  A bad omen.

Setting her jaw, Roxanne marched into 1148 N. Clark St, in the very heart of downtown.  Dressed in a business suit and using her city credentials, she was able to breeze past building security and ride up to the 28th floor.

The young male receptionist for Dr. Sondra Flowers blinked as Roxanne entered the office.  “Eh,” the fellow said, “…I’m sorry, Dr. Flowers isn’t seeing any patients this morning-“

“I’m Roxanne Sullivan, Mayor’s Office,” the young woman interrupted firmly.  “I **_need_** to see Dr. Flowers, please.  Its an emergency.”

The receptionist looked taken aback.  He was maybe twenty-five, very handsome.  Roxanne forced herself not to notice as she stared him down.

“Let me see what I can do,” the young man said, and vanished from his desk.

******

Five minutes later, Roxanne was sitting in Dr. Flowers’ expansive office, studying the diplomas and mahogany bookcases.  The view of Lincoln Park, only a few blocks north, added to the grandeur.

Dr. Flowers appeared, dressed in a business suit and pearls.  She was in her late fifties, plump, with a kindly grandma’s demeanor.  Her merry eyes twinkled as Roxanne rose to shake her hand.

“Well, Miss Sullivan,” the older woman exclaimed.  “How nice to see you again.  How’s City Hall?”

“Fine,” Roxanne lied.  She glanced at the patient’s couch, off to the side.

Dr. Flowers settled herself into a leather easy chair, a small notebook in her hands.  “Now then,” she smiled, “I assume you’re here to discuss the Heartfelt Program.  My assistant mentioned something about an… emergency?”

The cheerful psychologist had been one of Roxanne’s sources for the emotional evaluations requirement of the Heartfelt proposal.  The two had conferred many times.

“Sort of,” Roxanne hedged.  “Ah… Dr. Flowers… is this confidential?”

The older woman’s smile froze.  “Well, er, that depends on what you are here for,” she said delicately.  “Is this a personal matter, Miss Sullivan?”

Letting out a shaky breath, Roxanne nodded but shrugged at the same time.  “Kinda,” she admitted.  “But not totally.  The Heartfelt Program… its in real trouble.  I need your help.”

Looking alarmed, Dr. Flowers simply said, “Go on.”

Starting slowly, Roxanne told her story, omitting only the graphic details of anal sex.  As the tale veered into the depths of Derrick’s treachery, she wept.  And to her great shame, the young woman completely broke down in tears at two different points.  Dr. Flowers listened in horror.

“My God,” the psychologist murmured as Roxanne finished.  “That’s just… terrible.”

“I know!” Roxanne moaned, snatching Kleenex from the coffee table.  Her face was stained with tears.

Dr. Flowers drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair.  “I… I feel awful for you,” she offered.  “But I don’t see what I can do to help.  I don’t know anyone over at City Hall who-“

“No, no,” exclaimed the younger woman.  “I need your **_professional_** services.”

“You want to become a patient?”

“Short-term only,” nodded Roxanne.  “Just long enough for me to outmaneuver Derrick at the office.”

“Forgive me,” Dr. Flowers observed, “but you don’t seem like you’re ready to face your ex-lover.”  She added softly, “It might take months for these scars to begin to heal, Roxanne.”

The young city administrator shook her head firmly.  “I don’t have that time.  I need you to hypnotize me.”

“Excuse me?”

“I need you to hypnotize me,” repeated Roxanne firmly.  “Hypnosis can cause a person to forget stuff, right?  Or can help with willpower?  I need you to go into my head, or whatever, and remove all the feelings I have for Derrick.  So I can see him again without thinking of what he meant to me.  So I can stand him down.”

“Miss Sullivan,” Dr. Flowers said gently but firmly.  “I can’t do that.”

Roxanne flashed a dismayed but exasperated look.

“Hypnotism is a tool, a way to talk to a person’s subconscious,” Dr. Flowers explained, capping her pen.  “It can’t be used for-“

“You can make a person under hypnosis forget something, **_right?_** ” interrupted the younger woman.

Dr. Flowers drew a taught expression.  “Yes, amnesia is one of the symptoms of hypnotic phenomena.  But-“

“That’s what I need!” insisted Roxanne.

“But it is **_not_** a method to delete unpleasant experiences,” Dr. Flowers warned.  “What you ask is highly unethical.  I can’t in good conscience do it.”

“But…” Roxanne fumbled, frantically thinking for a reason, any reason, that would sway the doctor.  “But if I can’t…”

“I’m sorry,” Dr. Flowers said.  “I can’t help you.”

The older woman stood.  “In fact,” she added firmly, “I think you should go.”

******

Roxanne left the lavish office feeling as if she’d been punched in the gut.  What could she do now?

As she numbly stepped onto an elevator, she heard someone running across the tiled floor.  A hand grabbed the elevator door just before it closed.

Dr. Flowers’ receptionist poked his head in.  His narrowed eyes peered intently at Roxanne.

“Hey,” he urgently whispered.  “There’s a coffee shop down the block.”

“Okay,“ Roxanne began.  “But-“

“Meet me there in an hour,” the receptionist said pointedly.  Then he was gone.

******

Considering it was 10:32 AM in the middle of a workday, **_and_** in the center of downtown, the coffee shop was sparsely populated.  Roxanne sat in a booth, facing the door, and feeling even more miserable than ever.

She was about to give up and go home when the receptionist flew through the entrance.  He spotted Roxanne and quickly slid into the booth across from her.  “Coffee?” he asked the waitress.

Roxanne pursed her lips.  This guy was not much older than she, although he carried the mannerisms of a rowdy teenager.  Roguishly handsome, with messy sandy-blonde hair and blue eyes, Roxanne guessed he had very cute freckles not all that long ago.  In Dr. Flower’s office, he’s presented himself as reserved and professional.  Now the guy now oozed confidence to the point of being obnoxious.

As he made himself comfortable and unbuttoned the top of his collar, Roxanne noted something she’d missed at the psychiatrist’s office:  This guy had one ring on every finger.  Like he played in a band or something.

She disliked him immediately.

“Hey,” the guy smirked.

Roxanne forced herself to swallow her misery.  “Hello,” she replied levelly.  “So… why am I meeting you?”

“My name’s Slater,” the guy said, a little too easily.

“Slater, got it,” Roxanne said.  In her depressed state, she didn’t care if this guy wanted to be called Captain Dipsydoodle.

The waitress arrived with Slater’s coffee.  “Would you two like to order?” she said hopefully.

“Small salad, please,” Roxanne replied tonelessly.  Slater waved a dismissive hand.  Disappointed, the waitress vanished.

“First off,” Slater said, glancing about, “I gotta talk fast.  Old Lady Flowers thinks I’m out getting her dry cleaning.”  He snorted in disrespect.  “But I wanted to tell you:  **_I can help you._**   With your problem.”

Roxanne’s jaw dropped, slightly.  “You listened in to my session with Dr. Flowers,” she accused.

“It wasn’t a session,” objected Slater.  “I thought you were there for city business.”  He poured sugar, throwing a knowing look at Roxanne.  “Which you weren’t.”

The young woman thought of six different rude things she could say… but instead closed her mouth.  She looked down at her fingers, feeling defeated.  _The universe hates me,_ she thought.

“Relax,” Slater soothed her.  He picked up his spoon.  “I’m not saying anything to anybody.  I do think what you’re going through sucks, however.  Your ex-boyfriend sounds like Satanspawn.”

“Thanks,” Roxanne sighed, although she didn’t feel thankful.

“But I am serious,” Slater went on.  “I can help you.  For a price.”

The young city official frowned, studying the man closely.  “You can…?”

Slater leaned forward.  “I can hypnotize you,” he said in a near-whisper.  “I can make you forget.”

The waitress arrived with Roxanne’s salad.  She made one more glance at her two stingy customers, than shuffled off.

Roxanne leaned back in her seat, hugging herself a little.  “You,” she said, her doubt obvious.  “You do hypnosis.”

Slater nodded enthusiastically.  “For five years now.”

He pulled out his wallet, producing a small, white card.  “See?” he said proudly.  “Certified Hypnospecialist in the American Guild of Hypnotists.  Once I get a business loan, I’m opening my own practice in Hinsdale.”

“Sorry,” Roxanne said briskly.  “I’m only going to be hypnotized by an experienced therapist and PhD.  But thanks.”

Shaking his head, Slater replied, “You’re going to go to the other clinical shrinks?  I’m telling you now, they’ll all say the same thing as Old Lady Flowers.  They’re terrified of the liability.  What if you get hypnotized and then get mauled by a bus by pure coincidence?  A jury might still be convinced the hypnotism was at fault, or some shit.  They’ll never want that case in their files.”

“But with me,” Slater went on, speaking intensely, “we’d do it under the table.  Off the books.  You get rid of your bad memories, I earn a little money on the side… win/win, eh?”

Roxanne eyed the young man as he sipped his coffee.  She didn’t like this, didn’t like it one bit.

“Call the other clinical therapists,” shrugged Slater.  “Tell them what you want.  Most won’t return your calls, and the few that do will say **_exactly_** what Flowers told you.”  He sipped.  “When do you need this hypnotism done by, again?”

Roxanne cast her eyes down again.  “Immediately.”  No doubt at that very moment, Derrick was at City Hall, doing all he could to claim Heartfelt for himself.

Slater winced.  “I’m guessing you could spend, what, a week calling every shrink in town, just to get a big fat ‘No.’  But your dime, your time.”

The young man glanced at his watch.  “Speaking of time…” he said.  He yanked two dollars from his wallet, leaving them on the table.  “I can see you’re not interested.  Thanks for waiting.”  He slid from the booth to leave.

“Will it work?” Roxanne asked quickly.  “The hypnosis?”

Slater paused.  “Oh, absolutely,” he replied, as if mildly insulted.  “I hypnotize a lot of my neighbors for exams and for sports concentration.  Making people forget is easier than structuring them to remember.”

Roxanne opened her mouth.

“ ** _But_** ,” Slater cut in, “there’s some rules you’ll have to accept before we begin.  Because you’re not asking to forget a bad one-night stand.  You’re asking more something deeper.”

The hypnotist sat back down, leaning forward.  “You were with your ex for how long?”

“Five months.”

Slater looked serious.  “I can’t just put you under and tell you that the last five months never existed.  We’ll have to go back into your memory and defuse the attachments you had for Derrick, one-by-one.  That takes time.”  He rubbed a hand over his jaw, once.  “Three days of serious work, maybe.”

“Three days…?” breathed Roxanne.

“Can’t be done faster.  Trust me.  But when you wake up after the last session, your history with Derrick will be **_gone_** from your mind.  **_Poof!_**   It will be like you knew the guy professionally…”  Slater held Roxanne’s gaze.  “…but nothing else.”

The young woman bit her lip, her thoughts and emotions in overdrive.

There are times in life when we are under great pressure and we have to choose at a fork in the road.  We do our best to rationally evaluate the possibilities, but our panicked hearts tear all logic to shreds.  We seriously consider horrible options, **_knowing_** they are horrible.  But we are still swayed by the road we should not take.

Roxanne stared back at Slater.  “All I care about,” she instructed firmly, “is that when I wake up, I don’t care about the motherfucker in the slightest.  I want my feelings for him **_crushed_**.”

“Okay,” Slater nodded.  “I can do that for you.”

“Oh, and one more thing,” the young woman added.  “When the last session is done… I don’t want to remember **_you_** either.  I want to forget I did the whole hypnotism thing entirely.  Erase it all.”

“Well then,” said Slater, a sly grin on his face, “I’d better get paid in full first.”

******


	3. Chapter 3

Roxanne called her boss Claudia, explaining that she’d been rushed to the hospital with food poisoning and would be out the rest of the week.  As last-minute excuses, it was the best she could devise.

Slater had proposed working out of her apartment, but Roxanne quickly nixed the idea.  She wanted the hypnotist to see as little of her personal life as possible.  And as she wasn’t thrilled about traveling out to Hinsdale, she agreed to rent a downtown hotel room for the next three days.  It would be their base of operations.

******

The night before she was to be hypnotized, Roxanne read all she could on the mind-altering science.  There was so much misinformation out there!

One YouTube video she consulted did make the young administrator feel better.  Becca Fallows, a spiritual guru out of Seattle, posted a series of hypnosis videos.  Becca was in her fifties, but incredibly fun to watch.

“ _Whenever I get hypnotized,_ ” Becca exclaimed to her viewers, “ _I always give my hypnotist strict instructions of what I want.  And while in trance, I also give myself additional suggestions, too!  Self-hypnosis is the most effective hypnosis._ ”

The picture cut to Becca in a trance, while her hypnotist, another middle-aged lady, fussed over her.  The scene looked safe, inviting, invigorating.

 _Self-hypnosis, huh?_ thought Roxanne.  _I’ll have to remember to try that when I’m under…_

******

Slater arrived at the hotel room a little after 10:00 AM, offering lame excuses about downtown traffic.

“Forget it,” frowned Roxanne.  “Let’s get started.”

Slater had her sit in the room’s puffy recliner, and he pulled up the desk chair so he sat at her elbow.  “You ready to begin?” he asked.

Roxanne exhaled, wishing she felt more sure about this.  She nodded.  “Hypnotize me,” she ordered.

“Let me show you something,” said Slater, drawing a folded handkerchief from his pocket.

Inside the white cloth was a tiny silver pin, with a sizeable diamond mounted on the top.

“This,” Slater explained, holding up the pin between his thumb and forefinger, “is my only family heirloom.  It was my great-grandmothers’, who was Prussian back in the day.”

He rubbed his fingertips, causing the sliver of metal to spin.  “What I like about it,” he continued softly, “is how it catches the light.  The way they used to cut diamonds was designed to make it sparkle, just so.  See?”

Roxanne nodded, allowing herself to stare into the diamond.  It sparkled brightly.

“Don’t nod,” Slater murmured, still spinning the pin.  “Don’t say a word.  Don’t move, unless I ask you to.  Just stare into the rock.  This is your Hypnosis Diamond.  Let your eyes focus on each flash of light.  Listen to the sound of my voice.  Relax.  Let go.  Just watch and relax…”

He moved the pin directly into Roxanne’s field of vision, so all she had to do was look straight ahead.  The diamond was dancing in the sunlight, casting tiny flecks of red and silver and light blue in all directions.  It was pleasant to behold.

Under Slater’s calm instruction, Roxanne allowed her breathing to slow.  She felt her legs vanish from her mind, as Slater told her they were becoming relaxed, completely relaxed.  Then her hips similarly dissolved, then her stomach, then her chest.  By the time her arms were fading, the young woman was struggling to keep her eyes locked on the swirling gem.

“Relax deeper,” Slater’s voice flowed into her mind.  “You’ll feel yourself completely let go.  Permit the diamond to send you deeper, so much deeper.  Relax, Roxanne, relax…  Relax…!”

His directions became overlapping, sometimes confusing.  Roxanne, sinking into an ocean of relaxation, felt her mind struggle to absorb every suggestion, but soon it was too much.  Her eyes sagged shut as her mouth opened, just a little.  Her arms, limp noodles now, lifelessly slipped off her lap.  She was adrift.

As her body seemed to turn into warm mud, yet become weightless at the same time, Roxanne admired how tranquil she felt.  At one point, she felt as if her earthly body had gone to sleep, and her dreaming spirit was now free to rise up and wander in a strange, new world.  Slater’s voice wove into her every thought, directing her, commanding her, soothing her.  She felt delighted at this new careless, freedom.

******

A loud noise outside her thoughts startled the sleeping Roxanne.  She blinked, wondering why her head felt so heavy.

“Hey,” Slater said gently.  “How are you feeling?”

That noise… the hypnotist was snapping his fingers!  Roxanne straightened, her mind returning.

“I… uh, good,” she replied, her mouth dry.  “I feel good.”  A pause.  “Have we started yet?”

Roxanne searched her mind.  She remembered sitting down in the chair… and something about a diamond… but after that…  She frowned.  Her memory was a blank.

“We’ve started,” Slater smiled.  “I have good news.”

“Oh?” Roxanne blinked.

“You’re an **_excellent_** hypnotic subject,” said Slater.  “Wanted you to know.”

The young city administrator digested this news.  “You’re sure?” she asked skeptically.  “Because I’m not sure-“

“ ** _Sleep!_** ” Slater commanded, snapping his fingers before her eyes.

Immediately, Roxanne eyes shut and her expression went blank.  She immediately dropped into a deep, enchanted slumber.

******

From that point, Roxanne was in Slater’s power.  The hypnotist would speak, and Roxanne found that whatever he told her would become her reality.  He had access to her memories, her knowledge, and control of her mind.  She wanted to do whatever he commanded.

And then, Slater’s voice was taking her back, back, back in her memory to a winter’s day, long ago.  In her mind, Roxanne could clearly see a conference room at City Hall.  It was as if she was actually there, sitting down for a meeting with her coffee and notebook in her hands.  She was alone in the small chamber.

“ _Describe everything,_ ” Slater’s voice, deep within her mind, commanded.

Roxanne looked about, amazed at how completely she’d gone back in time.  It was March, and she was wearing her favorite wool skirt, a warm blazer, and boots.  There was melting slush on the toes.

“ _Now,_ ” Slater told her, “ _allow time to move forward.  What happens?_ ”

Colleagues filtered into the door, complaining about the lousy weather.  As Roxanne watched, a thin boy in a power suit rounded the table, making eye contact with her.  She felt her heart leap as he sat beside her and offered his hand.

“I’m Derrick Mathers,” the boy said, his brown eyes sparkling.  “You’re Roxanne Sullivan, right?  Nice to meet you.”

“ _That is the first time you met Derrick?_ ” Slater’s voice asked.

“Yes,” murmured Roxanne, charmed to be in Derrick’s presence for the first time.

“ _Very good,_ ” Slater commented.  “ _Now…  sleep_ **deeper.** ”

The conference room and Derrick faded.  Roxanne felt herself drift further under the hypnotist’s influence, grateful for his guidance and control.

******

Roxanne and Slater carefully toured all of the young woman’s memories of Derrick.  They relived the paddleboat date, the silly nickname contest, the night at the Chicago Opera, the first time Roxanne and Derrick had sex.  Roxanne felt herself fall in love all over again, helpless to hold back her own emotions as the history unfolded.

“ _Don’t worry about your feelings,_ ” Slater told her.  “ _We’ll fix them later.  For now, lets just find the moments from where those feelings came._ ”

******

Slater’s voice moved again, and Roxanne looked about.  She was in another conference room, up on City Hall’s Fifth Floor.  Chief-of-Staff Don Harbrook sat across from her, his arms folded across his chest.  Derrick was standing beside her, speaking with confidence.

“ _What do you see?_ ” Slater’s voice asked, deep inside Roxanne’s mind.

The young woman craned her neck up to look at her boyfriend.  Derrick’s steady voice was saying, “Two years ago this week, Sally Jo Kipanning, age fifteen, took her own life in the bathroom of her school.  A city school.  Shortly thereafter…”

 _He’s selling the Heartfelt Program,_ Roxanne realized, admiration for Derrick swelling within her.

Before she responded to Slater’s questions, Roxanne took a moment to admire Derrick for what he was.  Not a liar and a cheater, no…  A confident go-getter.  A communicator who knew how to connect with people, to influence them, to make things happen.  He was brave and brilliant.  Roxanne loved that.

 _Someday,_ she thought to herself, _someday,_ **I’ll** _have that power._

The thought seemed to resonate deep within her mind.

******

Slater moved her on, traveling to more and then still more memories.

And then… Roxanne heard Slater’s snapping fingers.  Her body came back to her.  She opened her eyes, coming out of hypnosis.  She felt relaxed.

It was nighttime outside the window.  Slater sat beside her, tired but smiling.

“Good work today,” he said, looking weary.  “Tomorrow, we do the real work.”

“How…  how long have I…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Slater said, his voice becoming iron.  The urgency surprised Roxanne.

The hypnotist touched two fingers to her forehead.  “Let your thoughts relax,” he commanded.  “Keep your mind passive, incurious.  We will resume tomorrow.  In the meantime, you will order some food and then immediately go to sleep.  Do you understand?”

Roxanne’s mind felt fuzzy.  Suddenly, she wasn’t sure what was happening, or who she was.  Yet, she had no concerns.  It was as if she were dreaming.

“I understand,” she said, blankly.

“Good,” replied Slater, rising.  “I’ll be back in the morning.”  And then he was gone.

Roxanne mindlessly followed his instructions.  Within an hour, she was in bed, sleeping deeper than she had in weeks.

******

In the morning, Slater put Roxanne back into hypnosis simply by holding the diamond pin before her.  Roxanne stared into the sparkling jewelry, and her mind slipped into trance before she realized what was happening to her.  Within a minute, her eyes were closed, her body relaxed.  She was under.

“ _Now,_ ” Slater instructed, “ _we’re going to revisit every memory with Derrick.  We’ll disconnect your feelings as we go.  You’re going to find your feelings for him dissolve, making you stronger.  Do you understand?_ ”

“I understand,” Roxanne replied tonelessly.

And then, she was back in the conference room, back in March, meeting Derrick Mathers for the first time.  But this time when Derrick shook her hand, she felt nothing.

“ _Excellent,_ ” Slater praised her.  “ _Let’s move on…_ ”

******

Roxanne spent more time in deep hypnosis than she knew.  The next two days were a foggy blur to her.  Most of the time, she floated within her trance, traveling to the memories where Slater’s powerful voice sent her.  Other times, she was awake, yet not in control of her thoughts and actions.  The hypnotist would wake her to eat and go to the bathroom, and then she returned back to her chair and her enchanted slumber.

As the hours passed, she was vaguely aware of Derrick slipping from her mind.  He was always a presence in her thoughts, of course, but the more she surrendered to Slater’s direction, the paler and fainter Derrick became.

******

“ _And now,_ ” Slater’s voice said, sounding tired yet firm, “ _you will relax so deeply, one last time.  You’ll remain in deep hypnosis for another fifteen minutes.  After that time, you’ll open your eyes, without my instruction._

“ _You will find yourself alone in this hotel room,_ ” he continued.  “ _This will seem normal and natural to you.  It is very late on our last day together.  This will not concern you._

“ _Right away, you will gather your belongings, go downstairs, and settle your hotel bill.  You will then go straight home.  You will immediately go to bed and sleep soundly all through the night.  You will do all of this is in a trance, unaware of your own actions, and your thoughts still asleep._

“ _In the morning,_ ” the hypnotist said, “ _you will awaken completely, fully alert and in command of your own mind.  The instant you open your eyes, you will forget me entirely.  You will forget that we ever met._ **You will forget that you were ever hypnotized.** _You will be entirely convinced that you have spent the last few days alone, home sick.  Should we meet again, you will see me as a perfect stranger.  You will remember_ **nothing** _…!_ ”

And then Roxanne was dimly aware of the young man rise to leave.  She heard the hotel room door open, then shut… and then nothing else.

******


	4. Chapter 4

Monday morning, Roxanne got to her office early, knowing the backlog of work she’d missed would be enormous.  Three days’ worth of food poisoning all but guaranteed there would be at least a thousand emails waiting in her inbox.

The instant she unlocked her office door, however, Roxanne knew something was amiss.  Her office had been searched.  Someone had removed every file she’d maintained on the Heartfelt Project, even the older stuff that wasn’t really useful anymore.  Angry, Roxanne checked the Shared Drive and verified that, yes, someone had also copied every last scrap of project data, too.

******

A little after 10:00 AM, there was a soft knock at Roxanne’s door.  She looked up.

It was Derrick, an odd look on his face.

“Hey…” he said carefully.  “Uh, I heard you were home sick…?  How you feeling?”

Roxanne folded her arms.  “Fine,” she said coolly.  “Listen, all the Heartfelt materials are gone from my office.  You know anything about that?”

Derrick glanced at the cubicle workers, who were openly watching this little scene as if they were an audience.  Tara, in particular, was enraptured.  Derrick fully stepped into Roxanne’s office, shutting the door behind him.

“Roxy…” he began, an uncertain smile on his face.  “Look, about that other night, er, with Tara…  Look, I-“

“What night?” Roxanne asked, annoyed.  She didn’t appreciate being called “Roxy.”

“What night?” echoed Derrick.  “You want me to say it?  Jesus, Roxy, I-“

“I don’t know **_what_** you’re talking about, Derrick” the young woman said dismissively.  “Now: do you have the Heartfelt stuff, or not?”

“No,” Derrick replied quickly.  Too quickly.

“Uh-huh,” Roxanne drawled, leaning back in her chair.

The young man was acting too suspicious.  She seen enough office double-crosses to recognize this game.

“If I didn’t know better, Derrick,” Roxanne said tilting her head to glare at the boy over her glasses, “I’d think you were trying to take Heartfelt out of my reach.”

“Rox,” Derrick began, his voice soft.  “Look, baby-“

“ ** _Baby?!?_** ” snapped his partner, disgusted.  Was Derrick trying to **_romance_** her, after stealing her baby?  Dickhead!

“You know what?” Roxanne said dismissively.  “Forget it.  I’ll use the backups.”

She added, “You’re fired, Derrick.  Get out.”

The young man’s eyes bulged.  “ ** _Fired?_** ” he scoffed.  “’cuse me?  I don’t work for you.”

“Well, you’re not working with me, that’s for fucking sure,” Roxanne shot back.  “I’ll take the project from here.  You can leave now.”

“I’m not giving up anything,” growled the young man.  “Heartfelt is mine.”

Roxanne shook her head.  “Its not ready, Derrick.  You’re without a paddle.”

“Oh yeah?” he sneered.  “We’ll-”

“Get out,” Roxanne said.

It was a threat.  Her voice was soft, yet laced with iron.

Derrick scowled, but threw open her door and then stormed away.  Roxanne immediately composing an email to her supervisor.

******

In the elevator, Derrick fumed.

What the fuck was up with Roxanne?  Last week, he’d been her Prince Charming.  She had been putty in his hands, so happy to give him full access to everything she’d done.  And to her delicious butt.

Now?  Now it was like the Invasion of the Body Snatchers or something.  Roxanne was cold and vengeful.  What the hell???

 _Whatever,_ the young man thought angrily.  He had the Heartfelt materials.  Roxanne claimed that there was still a lot of policy work to be done, but he could paper over the gaps.  Hell, he got through UCLA by skimming and bullshitting, hadn’t he?  He didn’t need Roxanne.

******

Claudia, Roxanne’s supervisor, was a short and stout woman, with already-silvery hair and deep worry lines etched into her face.  Dressed in a gray pantsuit and flat, black shoes, she displayed no sense of style at all.  A classic city bureaucrat.

As Roxanne told her about Derrick’s double-cross, Claudia reflexively clutched a worn stress ball.  The older woman was an able supervisor, but she did not handle office politics well.

“You’re **_sure?_** ” Claudia asked for the fifth time.  “Derrick is trying to steal Heartfelt for himself?”

“So it seems,” Roxanne scowled.  “I don’t think he’s thought out his next steps too well, though.  Heartfelt is no-where near ready for implementation.”

Claudia snorted.  “You’re young,” the supervisor sighed.  “You’d be shocked at how much city policy is implemented with little to no planning.”

“Can’t you talk to Derrick’s manager?” Roxanne pressed, annoyed.  “He can’t-“

“You **_don’t_** understand,” said Claudia, putting up two hands.  “You and Derrick went to the Chief, Don Harbrook himself, and told him this project was your joint brainchild.  If you now signal that you and Derrick are on the rocks, well…”  She let out a shaky breath.  “That’s bad for all of us.  Really bad.”

“I don’t get it,” Claudia added, with a nosey look at her staffer.  “I always got the impression that you and Derrick… were a thing.  Did you guys break up or-“

“ ** _Derrick?!?_** ” Roxanne gagged.  “Ugh!  Are you kidding me?  The guy’s a hopeless player.”

******

Claudia and Roxanne plotted strategy.  If Derrick was going to make a play for control of Heartfelt, fine, Roxanne would simply have to beat him at his own game.  She’d need to work twice as hard, pulling the details of the project together.  When the time came, she’d have to be the one to present the finished product to the Mayor’s bigwigs.

“That’s a heavy lift,” Claudia warned, worrying again.  “You think you can pull this off?”

“Its him or me,” Roxanne said, determined.  It was the best answer she could muster.

******

It was late when Roxanne left the office that night.  She’d pulled all the Heartfelt materials from the shared drive and stashed them away where Derrick couldn’t find them.  Now… to finish the planning.  There was a lot to do.

At 10:13 PM, she realized how hungry she was.  It was tempting to grab a bag of chips, but the thought of going to the vending machines… well, it had little appeal.  Roxanne decided to call it a night.

She treated herself to an Uber, and by 10:49, she was stepping onto the curb before her little apartment building.  She’d microwave some Ramen noodles, look over the Heartfelt implementation calendar one more time, then call it a night.  A good night’s sleep was needed.

As Roxanne fumbled for her door key, a small man unfolded from the shadows.  He’d been lounging outside the tiny delicatessen next store, smoking cigarettes.  Now he approached.

Roxanne tensed.  Her neighborhood was relatively safe, but a single girl on the streets couldn’t be too careful.

The man didn’t seem threatening.  With a small frame, wiry body, and sandy-blonde hair that badly needed combing, this guy was actually fairly cute.  His blue eyes glinted as he smiled.

“Hi there,” he said conversationally to Roxanne.  He flicked his cigarette into the street, and the young woman noticed that the man had a one ring on his thumb and all fingers.  _He must play in a band,_ she guessed.

Nonetheless, Roxanne wasn’t thrilled about a stranger introducing himself like this, and so late at night.  She reached into her purse, seeking the mace.

The man put up two hands, as if surrendering.  “Hey, hey, didn’t mean to startle you,” he assured her.  “You don’t remember me, do you?”

Roxanne frowned, stepping back.  “Sorry, no.”

“That’s okay,” the guy said soothingly.  “Look, we met last week.  You dropped something in my office.”

The fellow did look… somewhat familiar.  Roxanne flashed a fake smile.  “Okay,” she said.  “Look, I appreciate you swinging by, but can we-“

“This won’t take a second,” promised the guy, fishing in his jacket pocket.  He drew out a small handkerchief, which he unfolded.  “Ah, here it is.”

And then he was holding up something small, something narrow that fit between his finger and thumb.  A pin.  Puzzled, Roxanne found her eyes were pulled to the glittering diamond that was mounted on the end.

“That’s it,” murmured the guy, moving very close now.

Roxanne stared, immediately mesmerized by the sparkles.  Post hypnotic suggestions laid deep in her mind were taking effect now, lulling her back into that sweet relaxation.

As her thoughts clouded, Roxanne was unaware that she lowered her arms.  She almost dropped her purse onto the sidewalk.  Her shoulders sagged.  Her face lost expression.  She went into a trance.

Slater smiled kindly, stepping toe-to-toe with his victim.  “And now,” he told her softly, “you will take me up to your place.”

******

Like a sleepwalker, Roxanne led Slater into her building, and then up to her little studio apartment, overlooking N Damen Avenue.

“Very nice,” Slater commented, looking about.  “Remove your clothes, please.”

Roxanne felt an immediate need to strip down to her bra and underwear.  She did so, dimly marveling at how this all felt so natural, somehow.

“Now lie down on the bed,” ordered the hypnotist.  “Close your eyes.”

Roxanne obeyed.  To her, the world seemed distant and hazy and warm.  She felt so relaxed.  All she wanted to do was relax even deeper and let go.

As she drifted even further into deep hypnosis, Slater began asking questions.  What was she working on at City Hall?  What was the Heartfelt Program?  What would it do?  When would it go into effect?

At the mention of teenagers, Slater’s interest sharpened.  Which teens, he asked.  How many?  What ages?  What activities were planned for these kids?  Slater wanted to know **_everything_**.

******

And then, Roxanne felt her mind reconnect with her body.  Her awareness was returning, and soon she could feel her body lying on her bed.  She opened her eyes.

A man moved to climb on top of her.  The man she’d met on the street.  Roxanne wasn’t sure who he was, but he seemed familiar… and hot.  Really **_hot_**.  Sexy, like a fantasy man from the cover of a romance novel.  Roxanne looked into his vast, blue eyes, and she found herself smiling coyly.

Slater grinned back.  He was completely nude.  Roxanne’s hypnotized mind was fooled into thinking that he was rippling with toned muscles, and that his penis was huge beyond belief.  As the young woman ran her fingers over his chest, Slater leaned forward to kiss her.  He knew she couldn’t resist him.

Roxanne didn’t even try.  Hypnotic suggestions were at play in her mind, making her aroused.  Suddenly all she could think about was that enormous cock sliding into her.  She giggled a little, delighted at Slater’s kisses, thrilled to feel his body so close.

And then, her lust exploded.  Slater was taken aback when Roxanne attacked him, grabbing him about the neck, and pulling him even closer.  She kissed him now, harder, causing their teeth to scrape against each other.  Her tongue pushed deep into his mouth.  She shoved her hips up, pressing even more of their bodies closer together.

Slater was amazed.  Under hypnosis, Roxanne had lost her will, allowing her mind to be filled with whatever command he cared to give her.  But now that she was awake and unknowingly obeying his desires, she was a wildcat.  She threw herself into the role of physical lover, and her intensity almost scared him.

Between kisses, Roxanne gasped and moaned.  She released Slater’s shoulders, but only to grab her own panties and slide them down her hips.  A quick tussle followed as she wriggled out from underneath the hypnotist to completely strip away the little garment.  Second later, her bra was off too.

Slater leaned back, smirking and admiring Roxanne’s nudity.  She worked out.  **_A lot._**

“You make me **_hot_** , baby,” the hypnotized woman moaned, and she leaned over her lover.  They kissed some more, just as deeply.  As they did, Roxanne dipped two fingers into her vagina, stimulating herself.  The faint beginnings of an orgasm were there.

“You wanna see how hot you make me, baby?” Roxanne purred between kisses.

Before Slater could answer, Roxanne’s shining fingers moved from her vagina to his lips.  She traced his mouth once, then pushed gently, forcing the fingers inside.  Slater accepted them, sucking and tasting her.

At the same time, Roxanne rose up, allowing her other hand slid down Slater’s body and find his eager penis.  Her thin fingers brushed it, then wrapped about it with the greatest of care.  It was stiff and warm and she could feel the blood rushing inside.  Moving so slowly, she began stroking.

The hypnotist sighed happily, relaxing himself.  Roxanne was hot and she had an unerring instinct on how to please a man.  He felt himself falling under her sexual powers, just a little.

He sucked her fingers harder.  He’d swallowed her juices; now he wanted more.

But when Slater tried to sit up, Roxanne put a firm hand on his chest.  “No,” she reprimanded.  “I’m pleasuring you, remember?”

He had given her no such command, yet Slater obliged.  The stimulation of his cock was making thinking difficult.

Guiding him with one hand, Roxanne positioned Slater into the center of the mattress, lying flat on his back.  She straddled him, just under his hips.  This forced his legs together.  Taking one last moment to stroke herself, Roxanne rose up on her knees.

Slater watched her in amazement.  He’d slept with other hypnotic subjects, of course, but Roxanne was beyond any woman he’d tasted before.  Her body was **_flawless_** ; lean but curvy, creamy smooth skin, and sculpted flesh everywhere.  Even now, her abs were taut, rising like a wall of muscle up to those round, delicious breasts.

And her skills!  In person, Roxanne was beautiful but reserved, almost shy.  You could see she was extremely fit under her street clothes.  But there was nothing in her regular demeanor to suggest she was a fiery temptress once you got her naked.  Hypnotism had made Roxanne a natural sex expert.  She was irresistible.

Slater’s cock was so erect, it pointed straight at his sex-drugged face.  Working gently, Roxanne bent it back, forcing it to point to the ceiling.  She raised herself with her knees, placed his dribbling tip right against her vagina, and then slid herself down.  Slater’s entire shaft disappeared within her as she slowly lowered herself onto his hips.  He gasped.  She shut her eyes.

And then… Roxanne fucked him.  She moved up and down, using her knees for lift.  But she didn’t simply bounce.  Slater watched, himself hypnotized, as Roxanne started this seductive motion with her hips, pushing them forward as she descended, pulling them back as she rose.  Her pelvis swirled, dancing in circular movement.  Her stomach muscles flexed in the rhythm.

Slater moaned before he could stop himself.  This was like getting fucked by a belly dancer.

And the hypnotist came almost immediately; he couldn’t help himself.  The onslaught of pleasure Roxanne was giving was too much, too much to enjoy at a slower pace.  Although he tried to resist, the hypnotist felt his own penis say, _Fuck you mate, I’m going now._   And the semen burst forward.

As Slater came, Roxanne tilted her head back.  She grabbed his wrists, planting his hands on her breasts.  She sighed.  This all felt… so… good.

She was cumming, too.  Her orgasm was slower and richer, and she allowed herself to savor the pleasure.  In her hypnotized reality, Slater’s cock was larger and filled her vagina **_perfectly_**.  It felt wonderful.  Just wonderful.

******

Five minutes later, Slater and Roxanne lay on her tiny bed, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Slater’s own jumbled thoughts were assembling themselves.

There was much to do.  With Roxanne under his control, he’d have all the sex he wanted.  And she would remain in his thrall for more nights like this, he would see to that.

“Whadda you thinking about, baby?” Roxanne asked, running two fingers over Slater’s chest.

The hypnotist grinned.  She was still hypnotized to believe that he was a muscle-bound god, and the love of her life to boot.

“ ** _Sleep!_** ” he commanded her.  He watched with satisfaction as Roxanne’s body immediately went limp.

Then he went to work, programming her subconscious with her next instructions.

******


	5. Chapter 5

Wednesday morning, Derrick had a one hour appointment with his boss, Jeffery Stillings.  Stillings was a Senior Strategy Advisor to the Mayor, a prominent man in the administration.  Derrick had caught his eye, and now the older man was eager to see what flowers his encouragement had wrought.

The two men shut themselves in Stilling’s corner office.  Derrick attached his laptop to the slide projector, and called up his presentation.

“I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ve come up with,” Stillings admitted.  “Chief-of-Staff Harbrook had some good things to say about you.  But I’d like to see the final presentation before you go before the Mayor.”

“Of course,” Derrick smiled.  He clicked the first slide:  **_THE HEARTFELT PROGRAM:  CHICAGO’S PROMISE TO THE NEXT GENERATION.  BY DERRICK MATHERS._**

Right away, Stilling’s smile faded.  “Waitaminute,” the boss interjected.  “I thought you were doing this with that wiz kid from the Policy Shop, what’s her name…  Roxanne Sullivan.  Where’s-“

“You know what, sir?” Derrick said in a conspiratorial tone.  “I spent a little time with the eggsheads in the basement.  They’ve got their heads in their asses.  No vision.  Not like you and me.  We don’t need them; they just get in the way.”

“Okay…” Stillings allowed, unconvinced.

“We’re City Administration,” boasted the younger man.  “We’re the ones with The Vision.  The Policy Shop, **_they_** should take direction from **_us._** ”

Stillings shrugged.  “Okay,” he said.  “Pretend I’m the Mayor.  Go.”

Derrick began his pitch, immediately stepping into his confident yet likeable persona.  He felt great.

Three slides in, Derrick was past the introduction and beginning to lay out Heartfelt’s details.

“Wait a minute,” Stillings interrupted, his eyes narrowed.  “Why are there so many TBD’s on the schedule?”

“I’ve yet to pin those down,” Derrick replied.

“You don’t have firm dates?” Stillings exclaimed.  “The Mayor’s gonna want to see those.  His office needs to coordinate with City Administration.”

“No problem,” promised Derrick.  But he hurried through the slide.

Two minutes later, another pothole.  “Hold on,” frowned Stillings.  “You say here that the budget has already been approved for the Education Department?”

“Er, yes,” Derrick said.

“A minute ago, you said we’d need City Council to approve the money,” said Stillings, not looking amused.  “So which is it?  Is the money allocated or not?”

Derrick swallowed.  “Well…”

Stillings raised his eyebrows.  “You don’t **_know?_** ”

His protégé opened and closed his mouth.  For once, his instincts failed him.

Roxanne would know.  She’d immediately point out that Education spent their budget off-Calendar, meaning they had a separate blah blah blah…  She understood this shit.

“I, uh…” was all Derrick could manage.

Stillings rose to his feet, the corners of his mouth turned down.  “I’m not sending you to the Mayor with this,” he intoned.  “No way.  You’ll embarrass me.”

“Right,” Derrick meekly agreed.

The older man shook his head.  “Get your act together, Derrick,” he warned.  “Chief Harbrook asked about this project just yesterday.  If you can’t produce, he’ll never tap you again.”

******

Roxanne phoned in sick, but promised Claudia she would work from home.  Then she set up her laptop and got into it.  Brilliant detail flowed from her brain, through her fingers, and into the planning documents.  Heartfelt was coming alive at her touch.

She worked at her home desk, wearing nothing but her tiny underwear.  On her bed, Slater lounged, watching TV but keeping an appreciative eye on her almost-nude figure.  Occasionally he would want to play with her breasts or receive a blow job.  But for the most part, he let his hypnosis-dominated girlfriend work.

Only at one point did he take an interest in Roxanne’s activity.  “Tell me again what you’ll have these teenagers doing,” he commanded when Roxanne was back in a trance.

Volleyball, volunteering at shelters, theatre groups, dancing clubs, anything else the kids themselves might suggest.  Roxanne had lots of ideas.

“When you next awaken,” Slater said lazily, “I want you to insert another activity, deep into the language of this document of yours.  Add that the Hinsdale Hypnosis Center – which has yet to be founded by me – will offer free hypnosis sessions to all participating teens.  Hypnosis for confidence building.  And for stress management.  Phrase it so that the hypnosis is required… but not obviously so.  Do you understand?”

Roxanne did as she was commanded, popping the stealth language far, far down into Heartfelt’s deepest roots.  She even avoided using the word “hypnosis,” so even the most dedicated reader wouldn’t realize the legislation **_required_** all Chicago teens to get hypnotized.  By Slater.

“Excellent,” the hypnotist smiled.  After he erased Roxanne’s memory of this little item, he found himself getting stiff.  Soon, in a year, he’d be hypnotizing all the high school girls as he wanted.

Oh, it was **_too perfect_**.

******

Derrick hopped out of the cab, already craning his neck up in the evening light.  There were lights on in Roxanne’s apartment.  Good – she was home.

The young man set his jaw.  He’d has spent the day wrestling with his pride.  As galling as it was to admit it, Derrick knew he hadn’t a prayer to launch Heartfelt without Roxanne.  That meant he’d have to win her over, no matter what it took.  Romance, flattery, sex, groveling… whatever.  His future career was on the line here.

Derrick rubbed his chin, wondering how best to play the situation.  Roxanne had changed her locks, but while they were dating, Derrick had befriended her super, a flirty old lady named Mrs. Hzanic.  A little charm would let him in.

******

At that moment, Roxanne was deep in hypnosis.  Slater was probing her mind, then filling her with sex instructions for their nightly sex session.  When next she woke, she would believe that it was the 1800’s, that Slater was a bloodthirsty pirate, and that she was his captured prisoner.  The hypnotist was sparing no lustful detail.

Even as she floated in her trance, a part of Roxanne’s mind detached.  She absently pictured the future, the day when Heartfelt would be finally presented to the Mayor.  And to her surprise, Roxanne saw **_herself_** doing the selling.  As she stood before His Honor, she spoke proudly about her brainchild program.  She was poised, confident, radiating excitement… she was magnificent.

It was a wonderful vision.

Roxanne became aware of her body fading back into existence… Slater was bringing her out of her trance.  Reluctantly, she allowed the daydream fade.  And then…

******

Roxanne blinked.  She looked about her.  She was stripped completely naked, in the dank cabin of a pirate ship.  Only one foul-smelling oil lamp swinging from the ceiling.

And before her, a filthy man with a red coat and long hair stared at her lustfully.

Roxanne glared back.  She knew this man!  This was Captain Slater, scourge of the English waters.  Only moments ago, this blaggard had sent her family’s simple fishing vessel to the bottom of the Channel.  Now, she was his prisoner.

“’ello there, lassie,” the pirate leered.

Roxanne was able to fling the filthiest insult she could muster when the scoundrel reached for his britches.  The rings on his every finger glinted as he undid the tie.  And then his cock, his magnificent, shining cock was pulled forth.

Despite her fury, Roxanne stared.  The cock was **_gorgeous_**.  Her reason abandoned her.  As if under a spell, she lowered herself before the buccaneer, and begin to pleasure him.

******

Derrick kissed old Mrs. Hzanic on the cheek, who blushed like a schoolgirl.  “Thanks so much,” he cooed, twirling her copy of the building keys.  “I won’t need these for more than a second.”

******

Slater grinned to himself.  Roxanne, naked and kneeling at his feet, was working up a great spit.  She wasn’t the best at oral, but she would learn.

And with a little more programming, she’d be freely calling him “Master,” even when she was wide awake.  A few more hypnosis sessions would put her under his spell forever.

******

As he fumbled with Roxanne’s door, Derrick rehearsed what he was going to say in his mind.  _Baby,_ he’d purr to Roxanne, _I was so wrong,_ **so wrong** _.  You are the best thing that has ever happened to me, by far.  A fool like me doesn’t deserve-_ and so on.  Women were idiots for flowery language like that.

The door popped open before him.  Derrick stepped inside, his eyes bugging at what he saw.

Roxanne, completely nude, was kneeling before a guy, some dude who looked like he played in a shitty garage band.  The dude’s fly was open, and Roxanne was sucking wildly on his red dick.  Her head flew back and forth as she worked, and Derrick could see her spit shining all over the guy’s member.  Both Roxanne and dude had their eyes tightly closed.

Instantly all of Derrick’s plans vanished.  While he didn’t see anything wrong with **_him_** enjoying multiple sex partners, it had never crossed his primal little brain that Roxanne might have taken a new lover of her own.  Instinctively, he flew into wild jealously.

The rings-on-his-fingers dude opened his eyes, hurriedly stuffing his dick back into his pants.  “Who the fuck are you?” the dude had the gall to yell.

Not really thinking, Derrick shot back, “Asshole, I’m her boyfriend.  Who the fuck are **_you?_** ”

Roxanne blinked, a weird expression coming over her face.

The dude, his face red with fury, did his best to zip up his fly while looking intimidating.  “ ** _Get the fuck out,_** ” he hissed.  He shot a worried look at Roxanne.

But Derrick had seen enough.  With three enormous strides, the young city official bounded from the door, seizing the dude by the shirt with both hands.

“ ** _Get off me!_** ” shouted the other fellow, and threw the first punch.

******

Roxanne got to her feet, the pirate fantasy dissolving in her mind.  “Derrick!” she cried, coming back to reality.  “Slater!  Jesus, you two-“

Despite her nakedness, Roxanne sprang up, grappling to separate the two men.

In the tussle, Slater’s fist shot through the air, missing Derrick… but connecting with Roxanne’s jaw.  The young woman staggered backward, then collapsed against her dresser.

Derrick and Slater threw her the briefest of glances, but then resumed combat.  They grappled, careening into Roxanne’s body mirror and sending it crashing into the floor.

Crumbled on her rug, Roxanne saw stars.  Her mouth ached, badly.  She tasted blood.  Her neck and cheek were possibly bruised.

Another crash cut into her confused thoughts.  Her IKEA wine cabinet had just shattered under Slater’s weight.  Liquor and bottle fragments tumbled everywhere.

Fury exploded in the young woman.  She leapt to her feet.  “ ** _GET OUT!!!_** ” she screeched.

The boys ignored her.  Slater landed another punch into Derrick’s gut.

Seething with rage, Roxanne leapt into the kitchenette.  She snatched the fire extinguisher, then turned it on both men.  They bellowed in indignation as she coated them in smelly foam.

The fight ended immediately.  “ ** _Get the fuck out!!!_** ” Roxanne shouted, raising the extinguisher over her head, as if she meant to throw it.  “ ** _NOW!!!_** ”

Outside her door, she heard voices and running feet.  The neighbors were alerted.  Good.

Derrick and Slater, sprawled on the floor, looked up at Roxanne in shock.  “Baby…” was all Derrick could manage.

Looking at these two boys… for neither Derrick nor Slater could be called **_men_** … Roxanne felt nothing but contempt.  Whatever power either guy had over her was shattered in that moment.

With all her strength, Roxanne hurled the extinguisher.  It bounced off the floor, right between Derrick’s legs.  Another three inches up, and she would have hit his groin.

Not waiting for a reaction, the young women dashed back into the kitchenette, this time returning with her biggest knives.

“ ** _I’m not telling you dickheads again,_** ” she snarled, a crazed look in her eyes.  “ ** _Get the fuck out, or-_** “

Neither man waited to hear what the consequences were.  As one, Derrick and Slater scrambled to their feet and made a dash out the door.

******


	6. Chapter 6

**_Three months later…_ **

Roxanne stepped into the Ladies’ Room to check herself one last time before the mirror.  The young woman staring back at her looked **_sharp_**.  Her sharkskin jacket, matching stretch pants, and white button-down blouse were flawless, the height of professionalism.  Even the new glasses she’d bought for this very day matched.

The young woman paused to scrutinize the hair and makeup, but there was no need.  Everything was in place.  Academy Award nominees hoped they looked as together as Roxanne was right now.  Satisfied that she was perfection, Roxanne nodded at herself once, scooped up her briefcase, and then swept back out into the hallway.

As she strode down City Hall’s fifth floor corridor, Roxanne felt her confidence only building.  She failed to notice the other women, who could not help but notice her.  All of them paused to admire.

In the briefcase was the final draft of the Heartfelt Program.  It was so refined and polished, it positively gleaned with a light of its own.  The original draft had been very good, of course, but Roxanne had whipped the final product into nothing short of excellence.  And, of course, once freed of Slater’s control, she’d easily found and deleted his language he’d compelled her to insert.  That had been the first to go.

******

Claudia, her supervisor, greeted her outside Conference Room 506.  “Wow,” the older woman said as Roxanne approached.  “You look… wow.”

“Thank you,” Roxanne smiled.  She felt good.

“You’re ready for this?” Claudia asked.  Roxanne simply nodded once, already reaching for the door.

“Wait a sec,” interjected Claudia, using an awed tone.  “You mind if I ask you a personal question?”

Roxanne looked at her boss, amused at the other woman’s awkward expression.  “Of course,” she allowed.

“Roxanne, you…” Claudia needed a second to compose her thoughts.  “You just seem so **_confident_**.  Like you could run for mayor yourself.  I’ve never seen you like this before.”  Her brow furrowed.  “How do you do it?”

“Honestly?” Roxanne said with a slight smile.  “You want to know the secret?”

Claudia’s eyes widened.

“Self-hypnosis,” confessed Roxanne with a wink.

“Self…” Claudia echoed, her mind blown.  “Huh.  That works?”

“Oh yes,” said Roxanne, reaching for the door.  “I practice daily now.  But don’t ask how I discovered how to use it.”

******

Roxanne had never actually met the Mayor.  As she shook the Big Man’s hand, her first thought was that he was every bit as charismatic as everyone said.

“Well then,” Mr. Mayor rumbled, assuming the central seat behind the table.  “The Heartfelt Program, eh?  I’ve been hearing good things about this.  Whaddya got?”

Roxanne paused to glance around the room.  Over the Mayor’s left shoulder was Chief-of-Staff Don Harbrook; flanking the Mayor on both sides were the Budget People representing all the city’s departments.  Numerous administrators and political bootlickers were SRO.  Claudia hung in the back of the room, biting her nails.  All eyes were rooted on Roxanne.

The young woman offered her audience a warm smile.  “Thank you, Mr. Mayor,” she said smoothly.  “The Heartfelt Program is nothing less than the hand of Chicago extended to our young people.  Heartfelt is designed to provide an emotional support system to those teens who need it.  And through Heartfelt, our young people will learn about themselves and the city we’ve all learned to love as home.  In Heartfelt, we welcome them into our community.”

Without missing a beat, Roxanne launched into the program structure, taking care to describe the carefully-defined benchmarks.  She laid down the financials, highlighting how the money was ready to be green-lit, and she finished with a crystal clear explanation of what young teenagers would get when the entered and then someday exited the program.

She was electric.  Making eye contact with everyone in the room, Roxanne felt her voice gain power as she spoke.  She was funny at the right moments, forceful when challenged by the naysayers, compelling when she laid out her facts.  People ignored their vibing cell phones as she spoke.  Even the most seasoned politicians admired her poise.

There was respectful silence as she finished her conclusion.

The Mayor flashed a knowing look at Don Harbrook.  “I like it,” he commented.

And he grinned at Roxanne.

******


End file.
